The Chalet School
by x-Young-Author-x
Summary: HMMM...NOT SURE WHAT TO WRITE : JUST READ IT!


In the little garden at Die Rosen at the Sonnalpe Madge Russell eyed her younger sister thoughtfully

In the little garden at Die Rosen at the Sonnalpe Madge Russell eyed her younger sister thoughtfully. Joey Bettany, head girl of the Chalet School, glanced up.  
"What are you gawping at! Have I grown another nose over night?" She questioned.  
"I'm not 'gawping' as you so delightfully put it, Joey!" Returned Madge.  
"Well what on earth _are_ you doing then?" Jo protested.  
Just as Madge started to reply, her husband Doctor James Russell stepped outside into the freshening breeze that was blowing and immediately demanded to 'know what the two of them were bickering about now'  
Jo promptly started talking:  
"Madge was staring at me as if I was a voluptuous rare bird sitting right in front of her that she might like for Mitagessen, so I merely asked her what on earth she was gawping at and if I had grown another nose overnight!"  
Halfway through this speech Jem was almost crying with laughter at the end of this speech.  
"J-Joey Where _do_ you get your expressions from? If ever Mademoiselle heard that sentence of yours Jo, I don't mind telling you that you'd be out of money for a fair while!"  
With this last remark Jo was reminded that as head girl of the famous Chalet School she was an example to all of the school.  
"Oh-Oh! And I'm nearly broke as it is! Oh, be a dear, Jem and don't tell her!"

While Jo and Madge had been having their small disagreement, another two were also arguing.  
Eleanora Mary Francesca Lyon (She adored her first name so that is how she always introduced herself) was sitting in a large arm chair opposite her guardian.  
Mr Wilson was fighting a losing battle with Eleanora (the only other name she allowed people to call her).

"But Ellie, dear, you must see that I have no choice about sending you to school now that Professor Lyon has passed away?"  
"My name is _ELEANORA_ and no, I do not see why I should go to school with a bunch of terribly behaved, slang speaking little girls!"  
Mr Wilson was definitely snubbed by this obnoxious remark if he hadn't been by anything else in their conversation - His own three girls had gone to this school, and he was horrified that any little girl could be so rude. Secretly he thought she was a horrid little prig, but of course he couldn't say that so instead he replied with  
"If anything hasn't assured me that you should go to the Chalet School, your last reply has! I just hope they can make you into a nice school girl!"  
With anger and hurt in his eyes Mr Wilson stood up and walked over to the door.  
"Now please excuse me, I must go. But I will keep in touch to inform you when you will be leaving for the Chalet School."

After that last short string of words Mr Wilson walked out of the door.

-- Three days later --

"Eleanora! Eleanora! Come here, dear!" Eleanora's nurse called.  
As Eleanora walked into the room, nurse started talking again.  
"I've had a telephone call from Mr Wilson. He says that you will be leaving for the Chalet School in three days time, so will you please pack all your possessions in time, for he is coming at eleven o' clock on Saturday."  
"Alright, nurse, I shall be ready then," Eleanora replied with a meekness that nurse had not expected. However, she decided the best thing to do would be to ignore it, so she merely nodded her head and walked out of the room.

Could it be, nurse thought to herself, that Eleanora is becoming used to the idea of the Chalet School?

Yet, as much as nurse wondered if Eleanora was becoming any more used to the idea of school, she could not be more wrong.

As snobbish as Eleanora was, she had some common sense. She understood that as her guardian had told her she must go to school, then she must and there was no point arguing about it - but she swore to herself that although she must _go_ to the school, she would not like it and would _not_ take any notice of any stupid little school girls there.


End file.
